R is for Remembrance
by LadySuoh
Summary: America has survived - against the odds - through the trials of time, but an unspeakable horror may unravel everything the young nation has achieved. Who will be there to pick up the pieces when tragedy strikes? Author's first attempt at fanfiction.


Authors Note: Well, this is my first true attempt at writing fanfiction and I must admit that I'm a bit nervous to share it. I've been reading stories on this site and others for as long as I can recall and can only hope to be as great as some of my favorite authors. It may not be the best out there, but I hope you all enjoy my writing!

 **September 11, 2001**

Alfred F. Jones, the personification of the United States of America, watched the broadcast in horror. He'd been awoken that morning by several Secret Service agents ushering him into a vehicle which whisked him away to the White House. He felt his chest fill with dread as he could sense the panic of his citizens growing by the minute.

Before the car could come to a complete halt, America was out the door and rushing into the Oval Office where his boss awaited him. He knew it was bad, but nothing could have prepared the young nation for what he saw as he stood in shock before the flickering the television screen. The American sunk to his knees as he watched the unspeakable crime being committed against his people unfold. His vision blurring as his breathing became erratic,

"This can't be happening," He thought with a violent shake of his head, "How could anyone do such a thing?"

Alfred could hear the screams resonating throughout his land and felt the death of each individual soul as it was torn violently away from the Earth. Several of the news Anchor's words sunk in through the horror,

"Terrorists…Four hijacked planes…nationwide crisis." It was too much for him to handle.

Along with the words from the broadcast, he could hear his boss demanding a solution of him. His government officials were scared. No one knew what to do in the face of such devastation and it was his job to make a decision. But the American failed to find his voice as he watched innocent people throwing themselves out of World Trade Center windows only to die as their bodies crumbled upon hitting the unforgiving cement.

At 9:59am the South Tower collapsed. Alfred stumbled blindly out of the room as voices shouted at his retreating form. He barely made it to the bathroom before he emptied his stomach. The nation's body convulsed as pain overtook him. Everything hurt so much and an overwhelming sense of hopelessness was taking root in his gut.

America flashed back to Pearl Harbor and the tragedy that had claimed 2,500 lives in 1941. He couldn't survive through that kind of widespread disaster again. It had nearly destroyed him before and Alfred could feel the current attack eroding away at his will to go on.

Alfred's vision was fading to black when a familiar rage began spreading through his being and forced him back to consciousness,

"No," He thought resolutely, "They want me to give up and lay down without a struggle. If I surrender to this attack my land and people will only suffer more and I'll be to blame. A hero stands tall in the face of bullies. A true hero never allows injustice to go unpunished!"

America brought himself up on shaky legs and made his way to the sink. After splashing cold water on his face he allowed himself to look into the void eyes of his reflection. He was sickly white under the harsh florescent lighting and the haunted gaze revealed the anguish that his populace was drowning in, but there was something else there as well – a glint of fire; a tell-tale sign that the people responsible for the attack were going to pay for their heinous crimes.

America made his way back into the office, where he discovered all hell had broken loose in his absence.

"Enough," He said, silencing the anxious arguing.

His President approached tentatively, "Sir, have you made a decision? How are we to respond to this attack?"

Alfred lifted his chin to firmly meet the other man's eye, "We uncover who's to blame for this and we fight back."

At 10:28am the North Tower Collapsed.

* * *

 **September 11, 2015**

A feeling of melancholy and remembrance hung over the city of New York that day as America sat on a stone bench and gazed over the reflection pools. The memorial had been designed by architect Michael Aradto in 2011 to honor the lives lost in the terrorist attack from fourteen years earlier. 2,996 innocents had burned or fallen to their death on this day. Alfred could remember the horror like it had just happened.

The cascading of the waterfalls eased the American's weary mind. As he had walked along the memorial earlier that day – brushing his fingertips across each name engraved in bronze – he knew that he would always look back on this day with pain, but took comfort in knowing that a brighter future awaited himself and his people.

America heard the Englishman's soft footsteps before he felt the presence at his back. Slender arms wrapped themselves around broad shoulders as the Brit gave what comfort he could to his former colony and current lover. Alfred leaned into his touch and finally let the tears that had been clouding his vision fall in silent agony.

Arthur knew what it meant to lose citizens and understood that he couldn't take that suffering away, no matter how much he longed to. Instead, England determined himself to do the one thing of which he was capable: he remembered…the unprovoked hate, the devastating loss, and the courage of those brave souls who stepped up to repair the country in the aftermath of such tragedy.

As evening began to set in the American stood and embraced his lover,

"We're going to be late if we don't start heading over to the Meeting," He informed the other reluctantly.

He didn't want to deal with the bickering of the other nations, not on that day. He couldn't ignore his duty though and he refused to lose sight of his determination to grow and protect all those who suffered throughout the world.

Arthur gave him a soft, sympathetic smile,

"We should get going then before those gits begin worrying over their tardy hero," He stated as he intertwined their fingers.

They embarked on their way, easily mingling with the humans on the sidewalk. America glanced down at his boyfriend with a hesitant expression,

"Hey Artie, do you really think I'm a hero?"

The Englishman's lip quirked upward at the question and he leaned up to gently kiss the man he loved,

"Always, Alfred," He whispered against his lips.

Authors Note: Interesting fact about the 9/11 Monument in NYC: The reflection pools are each nearly an acre in size, and they feature the largest man made waterfalls in North America.


End file.
